The Mystery at Faldor Hotel Ch. 04

The Faldor Hotel, as a structure, was an oddity in and of itself with all of its copper and crystal décor. Marks had described it as 'gaudy' and, on the surface, that's all it appeared to be. Yet, Nancy's instincts again suspected there may be more to it than that.

The crystal columns of the main lobby floated back to Nancy's mind, the idea that those columns were rooted in in the basement along with it. These thoughts led her in turn to the fact that she and George hadn't checked out the basement. A building like this was sure to have one, it being the only place where a furnace would be located and, in all likelihood, access to that sublevel would be found in one of the non-public areas of the hotel, possibly the kitchen.

But, there was another issue that was a more pressing priority. Nancy still didn't know if Susan Quinn was even still registered at the Faldor and, until she found this out, anything else might be only a moot point anyway. The surest way she knew of finding this out, failing being told by someone, was to get a look at the register. Though, with any luck, George would soon return with information that would make such a risky course of action unnecessary.

Thoughts of her friend brought a smile to her face. Good old, trustworthy and reliable George. The sister she never had. What would she do without her?

Her smile faded as she remembered telling the brunette of her 'encounter' with Ned in his car at Lookout Point, her thoughts returning to that evening and the way she'd felt about it then. With some alarm, she realized the unlikely contrast to how she'd felt pushing her dress back down in Ned's car to how she felt when her dress fell from the Colonel's hand, how she felt standing up to her knees in the cold water of the sea with her dress hiked so indecently far. How could this be?

She frowned, pondering this. It wasn't as if Ned wasn't ten times cuter than the old military man, whose rotund form couldn't hold a candle to Ned's build, and Ned was so much more... refined. How could she have enjoyed Marks's attention, even still the memory of it, over Ned's?

Nancy ruminated on this for a while, her mind sticking to it until her eyes eventually closed and her thoughts became trackless and disjointed.

The sound of the door closing jerked her back to wakefulness, to a darkened suite that almost kick-started a panic until the light came on. George stood by the door, her eyes finding Nancy in the loveseat and, to Nancy, the tall, attractive brunette seemed somehow off, like a person who'd just been told that their beloved pet had died. She continued to simply stand there at the door, her clothes untidy and her hair mussed, regarding Nancy as though trying to figure out what she should say.

However, the sudden memory of allowing the Colonel to closely inspect her undergarments distracted her from present observations of George. Like the aftershock that follows an earthquake, the reality of that incident, one she had no intention of sharing with George, jarred her waking mind so that it was all she could do to maintain her sleepy composure.

As for George, she was, in fact, desperately trying to figure out what to say. She'd only just woken up less than ten minutes before in Suite 305. It was dark and, coming back to consciousness in that darkness to remember how Elora's freakishly unnatural tongue had taken her virginity, she froze in sudden terror, wondering if she was alone in the room. She knew she was naked and still on the bed, but couldn't feel anyone else on the bed with her, or hear anything else in the room, not even her own breath because her terror was holding it. Once she'd dared herself to breathe, she felt her terror give way to a more simple, yet now reasonable fear of the dark and whatever monsters, such as Elora's tongue, may be lurking.

With heroic bravery, she moved, ever so slowly, to turn on her side. Pausing, she still heard nothing, felt no movement from beside her, so she continued, reaching for the lamp that she remembered being on the bedside table. Her hand brushed the shade and quickly ducked underneath to twist the switch and illuminate her present situation. She was almost afraid to turn over and look but, when she did, she found herself to be the only occupant of the bed. Looking down between her legs, she found not a trace of virginal blood and, biting back a retching gag, quickly surmised that Elora's tongue and mouth must have taken care of that. A quick scan of the room located her clothes and, with a fear of the sultry brunette's tongue darting out from under the bed to grab her by the ankle, she hopped well clear of it and quickly gathered them up, getting dressed at the door in record time and leaving immediately thereafter.

And it was only standing there in the comparative safety of their own suite that George realized she couldn't tell Nancy what had happened. Even if she could relate the fact that she'd just had lesbian sex with Elora and lost her virginity, how would she explain the rest of it? Her sensible and logical friend might not even believe her, might think she'd gone wacky, or had gotten drunk on whatever it was that the Dining Room Hostess had given her in that glass. Even George was no longer sure of her memories concerning the event and, what was worse, she also realized that Elora didn't even provide her with any information regarding Susan Quinn.

"Are you alright?" Nancy asked

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

Nancy noted a hint of defensiveness in George's tone, but openly replied, "Your clothes seem a little... untidy. And your hair looks like you've been sleeping."

"No," George countered simply, finally moving from the door. "Is Bess back yet?"

"Uh uh," Nancy yawned, her eyes following as George walked into the bathroom and, without another word, closed the door behind her. Getting up and going to the door, she paused before asking at a slightly higher volume, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

"Well... how did the meeting with Elora go? What did she tell you about Susan?"

Inside the bathroom, George was getting a grip on herself, bracing her hands on the vanity as she stared at herself in the mirror, once again wondering if what she remembered from her time in Suite 305 could really have happened.

"Pretty much what Colonel Marks told us," she lied. "She spent time in the parlour with him and went swimming on Sunday while the Colonel and Billybob watched her. She did say that they got into some conversation in the dining room, but it was mostly about Susan's teaching career."

" ... So, why all the secrecy of a clandestine meeting just to tell you that?"

"I suppose because she could get fired for saying anything at all."

"I suppose," agreed Nancy, however reluctantly. "So, that's all?"

"Yes."

"Well, it must have been a pretty short meeting, then."

"Yes."

"But, it's ten to eleven; where have you been all this time?"

" ... I came back here earlier and found you sleeping, but Bess still wasn't back. It was getting dark, so I went out to look for her," George lied again, adding, "and I took quite a tumble, which is why I'm a little messy."

"A tumble? Are you alright?"

"Oh yes," George assured, finally regaining some of her own composure as she straightened her clothes and hair in the mirror amidst a sudden and disturbing memory of how good Elora's tongue felt when it was on her neck and-

"Well, what happened?"

" ... I thought I saw Bess down by one of those derelict fishing boats and, when I tried to get through that tall grass all around them, I caught my foot in a piece of old, half buried fishing net and tripped."

"I assume it wasn't her, then," the sharp minded sleuth said through the door. "Otherwise she'd be here with you now, but who did you find?"

"Nobody. Like I said, it was getting dark when I left and, by that time, it was almost completely dark. I wasn't sure I saw anybody at all and, by the time I got untangled, back to my feet and through the grass to the derelict, there was nobody."

The door opened and George seemed back to her usual self, clothes straightened, hair fixed, but still with an expression that Nancy attributed to worry over Bess's absence, worry that she now shared.

"I think we should go back out to look for her," Nancy stated.

"That's why I came back; to get you. Are they your stockings hanging up in there?"

"Uh- yes, I got- well, I'll tell you later. Let me just grab a fresh pair, some shoes and then we can get out and look. Maybe we'd best alert Mr. Carmody as well."

"Good thinking as usual, Nancy!"

But James Carmody was no longer at the front desk. In his place stood a tall woman in her early forties with light blonde, shoulder length hair. Her gray eyes were striking and drew attention to her natural beauty as her well-fitting hotel uniform flattered her lean, but curvy body. The pin on her lapel identified her as Vivian Hildebrandt, Assistant Manager and, obviously, the night shift Desk Attendant.

After her eyes gave the two friends the once-over, she displayed a sort of professional concern over their missing friend, but assured them that Bess was most likely alright. According to her, crime was practically non-existent in Cinder Bay and, as there were presently no hurricanes in the South Atlantic, there were likely no riptides that could have swept her out to sea if she'd decided to go swimming. Beyond that, the only possible danger was the old coal mine, which was boarded up and clearly marked as a possible safety hazard. She surmised that Bess had probably run across some townsfolk and was invited to a kitchen party or something of the like. Despite this, she promised to contact the Sherriff and let him know to be on the lookout for her.

Assurances or no, Nancy and George exited the Faldor to go looking for her just the same. The first place they went was Annabelle's Boutique, knowing she'd have gone there to follow up on the lead that her breasts had gotten out of Manny, however that establishment was closed.

"Now where should we look, Nancy?" George asked, looking up and down the dark stretch of chip seal.

Every establishment was closed, their windows as dark as those of Annabelle's boutique, the only illumination coming from the one and only light standard in the town, the one that was situated in front of the Faldor Hotel. A few of the residential homes had lit windows, but neither girl relished the idea of knocking at the doors of strangers in such a town as Cinder Bay where people like Billybob and Elora Sasser lived.

"Why don't we try the wharf," George suggested, "then the lighthouse."

"Did you check them earlier?"

"Only the wharf, but that was then. She could be there now."

"Right," Nancy agreed. "Why don't we save some time and split up? You take the wharf and I-"

"No."

In the gloom, Nancy tried to discern George's expression for explanation of her unwillingness to split up, but she needn't have bothered as her friend's next statement was quite honest about it, though surprising for brave and adventurous George Fayne.

"I don't want to go out there alone, Nancy. I don't think it's a good idea. We should stick together."

"Well... alright. So, which place do we search first?"

"The wharf."

The edges of the wharf were bordered by creosote ties and, had the stars not been out, or their eyes not adjusted to the darkness by then, the danger of tripping over the tie that also bordered the end of the wharf and falling into the water would have been a distinct possibility. As it was, they stopped there and, not finding their friend, turned and headed back.

George's reluctance to go wandering around Cinder Bay at night brought back Nancy's own thoughts of the town from earlier that evening, and when they'd again reached the chip seal, she decided to broach the subject, if only to take her mind off her increasing worry over Bess.

"What do you think of this place?"

George looked at her, but didn't answer right away, prompting Nancy to elaborate.

"I don't mean... comparative to other towns. I mean, what does your intuition tell you about this place?"

" ... It's hard to say," George answered carefully. "The people are friendly, but odd. They seem very..."

"Sexual?"

"Yes. It seems like a constant thing that's just below the surface with everyone we've met so far, save Mr. Carmody."

"And Elora Sasser."

" ... Is that her last name?"

"The Colonel told me. I was talking to him again after you went to meet her. He said that she and Susan spoke a lot; that's why I'm surprised that she didn't have more to say about her."

"Oh."

"But, beyond the people and their behaviour?"

After a pause, during which time the memory of Elora's long, waving tongue came vividly back to her, George answered with a slight shudder, "It's hard to explain, but... On the surface, everything is so nice, so quiet and... dead normal. But there's another impression about the town, something more subtle, like something else that lies just beneath the surface. There's something wrong here, Nancy. Very wrong. As soon as we find Susan, we should leave."

Nancy was taken quite aback at this assessment, her own earlier suspicions that there was something strange about Cinder Bay and the Faldor in particular, completely overshadowed by George's more detailed intuitions and the fearful tone she'd used to relate them. What really bothered Nancy about George's reply was the fact that her friend was usually so unflappable, her rational mind never particularly given to the kind of fearfulness Nancy sensed from her.

From George's perspective, it was more than she would have wanted to say, yet not nearly enough. She still wondered if what she remembered from Suite 305 had really happened, or if it had been some drugged up hallucination. The worse thing about the memory, false or not, was that it carried with it the extreme pleasure she'd felt from her very first orgasm. Even the thought of that tongue, while it repulsed her, also aroused her sexuality.

By the time they came to the footpath that would lead them to the rocky point where the tall, dark lighthouse stood, Nancy couldn't help feeling a little disturbed by George's commentary. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and she'd come to be keeping a sharp lookout on the darkness that surrounded them, realizing that George had been doing so all along. She tried to tell herself that this was foolishness, that George was only spooked by her own imagination. Why, it was just a few hours ago that Nancy had been standing at the water's edge enjoying a moment of serenity, a peace that she'd never known before Cinder Bay. Her fears, as were those of George's, were completely irrational, but maybe only to be expected. After all, while it was true that Nancy and her friends had been to many different places all over the world, none of them were quite like this little town, and it was only natural, as her father had implicitly warned, to be put ill at ease by such a different atmosphere, if not the odd people who inhabited it.

Just the same, Nancy's irrational fears persisted as they reached the lighthouse. Wishing for the tenth time that she'd brought a flashlight, she led her friend over the beaten path surrounding the tall structure that no longer pierced the darkness of night with its beacon to distant sailors. Carefully rounding it on the narrow pathway, they came to the water facing side and her breath caught when her foot became suddenly entangled in something. She stopped up, her heart suddenly in her throat, causing George to bump into her from behind. Silently cursing her silly, faceless fears, she reached down to see what it was.

"What's wrong?" George hissed

"Something's tangled around my foot!" Nancy hissed back.

After a moment, she straightened, holding the something up against the lighter background of the old lighthouse so they could easier make out what it was in the dark.

"Nancy, is... is that what I think it is?"

"It sure looks to be."

"But, what would that be doing here?"

"That's a good question," Nancy returned, quickly adding, "Here, hold it for me. I'm going to see if I can find the other piece."

George took their find from Nancy, looking around them as though they were doing something illegal as Nancy crouched to feel around the narrow path with her hands. After some moments, she straightened up once again.

"I've got it! ... I think."

Holding the second find against the lighthouse as they had the first, the starlight confirmed Nancy's suspicion. They'd found an indecently skimpy, black string bikini.